


wrote my way out

by Slumber



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Career, Editor!Atsumu, M/M, writer!hinata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber
Summary: "Hinata Shouyou here is a promising young writer," Meian had said. "He placed third in our annual competition, and we think there's a debut novel waiting to be unleashed in his short story concept. Hinata, this here's Miya Atsumu, one of our best editors. You'll be in his care while you work on your manuscript."Hinata would have gone through the niceties—he really would have! he was ready to bow and everything—were it not for the sneer he caught on Atsumu's face then, a thin curl of the upper lip, a gaze full of condescension. It caught beneath Hinata's skin and rankled him. And then Atsumu turned to Meian. "Third placer, huh? Ya didn't even give me the first loser—I have ta deal with the second?"Hinata writes. Atsumu edits. They figure it out.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 14
Kudos: 162
Collections: AtsuHina Exchange





	wrote my way out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimikyuun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimikyuun/gifts).



> From your prompt, writer x editor, which I wish I had more time to dive into! But this was a fun prompt to work with, so I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for your absolutely gorgeous graphic work in the AtsuHina Exchange! ♥

Atsumu's face betrays no emotion—no approval, no dismay, no delight, no disappointment—the only movement is the way his eyes flicker up and down through the pages of the manuscript before him, hiding the lower half of his face behind a thick sheaf of paper. 

Hinata watches, on the edge of his seat. He's trying not to chew on his fingernails, trying not to fidget in place, lest it disturb the peace and Atsumu's concentration. He settles for worrying at his lower lip and gripping the edges of his chair instead, trying to divine the meaning behind every miniscule narrowing of Atsumu's eyes, every sudden intake of breath, each time his gaze holds still on a particular section, as though to study it further.

After what feels like hours, Atsumu finally says this: "Hmm."

"Hmm?" Hinata prompts. He's not sure what to brace himself for.

In the last couple of months that he's worked with him, Hinata learns that Miya Atsumu is most things his reputation warned him about: he is strict, has impossibly high standards, and is almost unfairly good at what he does. 

The first two cause Hinata undue amounts of pain. But the third—the third is why he hasn't complained.

(Not _publicly_ , anyway. Certainly not to MSBY Publishing. Or anywhere Atsumu can hear.)

Atsumu sighs, putting the manuscript down. "It's in better shape than before," he declares, but the pursing of his lips is not _happy_ , and he crosses his arms in what Hinata has learned is Atsumu-speak for 'I'm about to tear you down to nothing, which you will hate, but then build you back up brick by brick so you are better than ever, which you will thank me for'.

Hinata holds his breath.

"Yer worldbuilding's gettin' better by the day, Shouyou-kun," he says. "That bit about the shopping district, it's a great addition to help set the foundations for yer plot. Liked the nods to setting ya added in—not overwhelming, just enough to set the stage and tease at the bigger world around them. And the plot? Yer pacin's _great_ , it reads quick and easy, it'll be hard ta put down. I've got some tweaks to make sure ya don't give too much away in the first act, but we can work with this."

Hinata nods. He hasn't heard anything bad yet. 

"Now the characters."

Oh boy, here they go.

"Don't give me that look, I like 'em fine," Atsumu tells him, the corner of his lips twitching a little. "I just. Yer still relyin' on what they're _doing_ , it's all nice and flashy, and she's pretty cool, you know? But I'm gonna ask ya to dig a little deeper, okay?"

"Dig a little deeper," Hinata echoes.

"Yep."

Hinata's face scrunches up. "What the heck does that even _mean_ , Atsumu-san!" he wails.

* * *

Their first meeting had left a lot to be desired.

"Ya know there's nothing I hate more than wasting time with scrubs," were the first words Hinata heard out of Atsumu's mouth. They hadn't been directed at him—Hinata had been ushered into Meian's office at MSBY Publishing by the well-meaning receptionist—but he'd known then they were _about_ him.

Meian had only given Atsumu a look, standing up to greet Hinata with way more decorum than Atsumu displayed. "Hinata Shouyou here is a promising young writer," was what he'd said then. "He placed third in our annual competition, and we think there's a debut novel waiting to be unleashed in his short story concept. Hinata, this here's Miya Atsumu, one of our best editors. You'll be in his care while you work on your manuscript."

Hinata would have gone through the niceties—he really would have! he was ready to bow and everything—were it not for the sneer he caught on Atsumu's face then, a thin curl of the upper lip, a gaze full of condescension. It caught beneath Hinata's skin and rankled him. And then Atsumu turned to Meian. "Third placer, huh? Ya didn't even give me the first loser—I have ta deal with the second?" 

"Hey!" Hinata had protested, his hands curled into fists, the bittersweet taste of that not-first-place finish rising anew in the back of his throat. He knew he was being challenged then, knew he was being baited into _something_ , he just— "My novel's gonna debut on the top of the list, so you better—you take that back!"

Atsumu had just laughed. "Of course it will, if I've got anything ta say about it," he'd said, crossing his arms. "But ya can't be a scrub around me or yer on yer own."

"I'm not a scrub! You'll see!" Hinata had said, only realizing much, much later, that all he'd done then was play exactly into Atsumu's hands. 

* * *

Atsumu just laughs. "It means," he says, and there's nothing kind about the way he says it but there's nothing malicious about it either, just a laying out of the facts as they stand, a blueprint of where Hinata's gaps lay and how to cover them, "yer characters don't feel rooted enough."

Hinata frowns. "Rooted?" he echoes.

"We don't know where she's been," Atsumu says. "So it's hard ta care fer where she's goin'."

"But that's just—" Hinata casts his mind back for the word he needs, something impressive-sounding that Atsumu's dropped in the past, when he'd lectured Hinata on his bad writing habits before— "Unnecessary exposition!" 

Atsumu raises both eyebrows, his amber eyes sparkling with delight. "Nice try, Shouyou-kun," he says, "But that's different. Look, ya don't have to _dwell_ on it, or even explain all of it. I don't need a whole other story. I just need to know—hmm."

Ah, so they're back to this again. "Hmm?" Hinata asks, making his pout very, very obvious.

But Atsumu doesn't take the bait. He looks at Hinata through shrewd eyes. "I've gone through yer old stuff, ya know. From high school and the things you've been sending for submissions through these contests," he starts. "Yer always writin' about wild, fantastical worlds. Yer imagination and creativity are—well I haven't seen anything like it before. Ya make us wanna fly, and that's really, really important. But I never know what we're leaving behind when ya do."

Hinata chews on his lower lip. He knows—despite the instinct to resist it, the desire to be contrary—what Atsumu means. "I'm not sure how to find out," he admits.

"S'easy," Atsumu tells him. "Just ask yerself: what're ya runnin' away from?"

* * *

Their second meeting had fared no better.

"Miya-san! What are you doing here!" Hinata had asked, making the mistake of stepping back into his apartment and giving Atsumu the opening to make his way in. 

"God, no, the only Miya-san around is my father, call me Atsumu," he'd said, blinking and giving Hinata a once-over from head to toe and taking in his sleep-tousled hair, ratty shirt, and loose pants. "Didn't ya get my message this morning? I said I was coming over. How are ya supposed to turn in yer first draft by next week if yer still asleep at this hour?"

"It's—" Hinata had glanced quickly at the clock on his wall— " _Eight_ a.m.! This _is_ still morning!"

"I respect every writer's process," Atsumu had said then, in a tone that told Hinata he obviously didn't. He'd made himself welcome in the kitchen, setting down a bag of what Hinata would later learn is riceballs from his brother's shop and opening up the cupboards one by one to find the things he needed, but didn't ask permission to get. "I just need to find out what that is first. Coffee?"

* * *

"That's not very _un_ abstract of you, Atsumu-san," Hinata grumbles, wrinkling his nose as he stares at the file opened up in his laptop. 

"Oh, the scrub thinks he's being clever," Atsumu says, laughing.

"Atsumu-san!"

"Just think about it," Atsumu says, dusting off imaginary crumbs from his nicely pressed slacks as he stands up and makes his way to Hinata's kitchen. Hinata watches him put the kettle on, open the cupboard to take out their favorite mugs, and rifle through the bowl of tea bags for the lemon chamomile he favors. "Yer a clever writer, I know you'll figure it out. Tea?"

"Yes, please," Hinata mumbles, running his palm through his face before he gives his file another look. 

It's not that he doesn't understand where Atsumu's coming from. Sure, it had taken them well after the third, fourth, fifth disastrous meetings and the Meian-imposed reluctant truce to figure out how they could work together. Yes, Atsumu's always going to sound abrasive and rude, but he's never unfair in his demands, and Hinata's short-tempered and stubborn, but he's always eager to get better, and better, and better.

And the truth is, over those moments after Atsumu showed up at his door—over figuring out how Hinata liked his tea at the same time Hinata was learning to trust in Atsumu's guidance as they discussed how best to untangle plot points and layer in the foundations of Hinata's novel, over arguments about when to follow the rules and when to break them, over spirited discussions on dialogue-versus-description and late night takeouts—Hinata realizes it isn't just Atsumu who's pushing the other to do better. 

Because Atsumu has this uncanny ability to see what Hinata's trying to achieve, no matter how grandiose or ambitious, and Atsumu has the unbelievable skill to reach out and, by attacking it from the right angle, with the right amount of pressure, help shape it into form. 

Help make it easy for Hinata to write it out.

That's what he's doing now, laying this challenge down. Dig into the character, figure out who they are, and the rest will follow. One pressure point to untangle every loose plot thread that's been hanging over his head.

"Here," Atsumu says, placing a steaming mug of hot tea beside Hinata. "Before ya combust thinkin' too hard."

Hinata immediately warms his hands around the mug, realizing maybe perhaps Atsumu had noticed how he'd been tugging the sleeves of his overloose, threadbare sweater over his hands and hunching over himself all this time. He watches Atsumu settle down on what has become his side of Hinata's couch, pulling out another manuscript from his bag so he can work on something quietly and without distraction while Hinata puzzles out his characterization-shaped hole of a problem. 

Atsumu shifts on his seat, finding a comfortable position, a stray lock of wavy blond hair falling over his eyes. He ignores that in favor of pushing up the thinly-framed glasses that had nearly slid down his nose, holding up the manuscript and tapping a red pen to the page as he reads. Sometime between Hinata's manuscript and fetching tea, he'd rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his forearms, long slender fingers firm as they hold the manuscript steady.

From where he's seated, a different angle than earlier, Hinata can see when Atsumu juts out his lower lip in a quietly disapproving frown, when he sticks his tongue out as a phrase or sentence structure gives him something to think about. It's an unexpected feature, adds a layer of _comfort_ so that the figure Atsumu cuts isn't imposing, or impersonal, or impressive. Instead he looks like— 

Seemingly sensing the attention, Atsumu's gaze flickers up to catch Hinata's after a moment. "What is it, Shouyou-kun?" he asks.

Warmth blooms from the center of Hinata's chest—but it has nothing to do with the tea in his palms or the sweater snug around him. It's heat sparked by the soft amber of Atsumu's gaze, a coziness from the familiar shape of Atsumu, curled in Hinata's couch like he's always belonged there, steady and constant.

_Grounding._

"Shouyou-kun?"

"It's nothing, Atsumu-san. I think—I think I got it," he says, a little dazed.

And then Hinata begins to write.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked what you've read, you can [share the tweet here](https://twitter.com/slumberish/status/1319329121533648902?s=20). I've also written a handful of [other Haikyuu!! fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/works?fandom_id=758208), including other AtsuHinas.


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